


Renewal

by PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Minor Original Character(s), Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/PoliticalPadm%C3%A9
Summary: To honor the past you must move forward, or, Rey and Ben seek clarity.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: Reylo Charity Anthology: Volume 2





	Renewal

The Lars homestead had been silent for decades. There were pilgrimages, now and again, by scholars or cultists or the morbidly curious. By people who hoped to learn something about Luke Skywalker, something tangible about where he came from and how he grew up. But they were always disappointed. The homestead was abandoned when Owen and Beru were murdered and Luke left. Their remains became carrion, their property scavenged and years of sandstorms buried their home. Luke’s childhood secrets disappeared into the wind.

The sand scattered as the Falcon landed and her passengers disembarked. Rey and Chewie bounded into the falling light of sunsset and took stock of the sunken property with the practiced eyes of scavengers. Ben and Artoo followed behind, more hesitant. The wookie made a face and barked a phrase that sounded mournful in the low wind.

“Yes,” Rey agreed with the observation, “he’ll need the shelter.” 

Chewbacca nodded and turned back to retrieve supplies from the ship. Artoo trundled past the main structure. Memory worked differently for a droid, but the astromech seemed lost in its nonetheless. Ben’s eyes flickered around the scene, hoping to find an answer, or an anchor, but beyond the homestead there was only sand.

“Are you sure about this?”

Ben glanced down to find Rey’s eyes wide with concern. He reached over to brush sand from her cheek and tuck a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. He was not sure about this, or anything, but then that was the point.

“I need time to reflect,” he answered, quiet, but clear. “And so do you.”

She leaned into the hand on her cheek and nodded acceptance if not agreement. 

Artoo whirred for attention as Chewbacca returned with two crates and a carrysack. Ben dropped his hand, plucked the carrysack from Chewie and walked toward the droid with purpose. The wookie watched Rey’s eyes follow after and suggested in a low growl that she stay, too. 

“I can’t,” she murmured. She was a hero, a legend. She couldn’t disappear, like Luke had, and his masters before him. They must learn from the mistakes of the past if they had any chance to break the cycle. That was why Ben was here, and that was why she could not stay with him no matter what her heart wished.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and smiled up at her furry friend. He asked if he should set coordinates for the old base or the new capital?

“No, we’re going to Naboo.” Chewie responded with confusion and an undercurrent of concern. “Finn is studying,” she argued. “He has Maz and Jannah and the Jedi texts and they’re putting together a class.” She nodded at his query. “Planning a school. Rose and Lando are helping.” The texts she’d retrieved on Ahch-to went into a lot of detail about vergencies of the Force and how to choose land space for a Jedi temple. Poe wanted them to build in the new capital — said if he was stuck there, they should be too! — but Finn and Rey agreed the Jedi should be kept separate from the government. They just had to find the right place. Closer than the island but outside the political sphere… “Poe is hip deep in politicians,” she went on, “But Threepio is with him. And Kaydel.” The three of them worked closest with Leia, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a plan. “And I’m not sure where Zorri is but I know she’s safe.” She looked up to meet Chewbacca’s eyes. “Our friends are safe and Ben’s right. This is something I have to do.” The wookie rumbled encouragement and gave her shoulder a squeeze before nudging her toward Ben.

He’d lowered the equipment into one of the smaller rooms and R2-D2 was carefully moving the scraps that remained from when it was occupied. Rey’s eyes were drawn to the tracks of the droid’s movement in the sand, and the trail of Ben’s footsteps leading to a ledge on the outskirts of the property. She couldn’t escape thoughts of her lonely childhood on Jakku and her chest constricted at the thought of abandoning him to sand and ghosts. She closed her hands into fists, dug her nails into her palm to still her distress and forced her features into a mask of serenity for Ben’s sake. But he felt it all through their bond and pulled her into his arms when she drew close. The sudden intimacy startled her but his heartbeat had a calming effect and Rey leaned into the embrace. Sand and suns, and time and space, fell away, replaced with unity. Balance. They might have stayed in the moment forever but Chewie’s warning bark broke the spell; the Falcon had to leave before nightfall or they would draw too much attention to Ben’s new home. He pulled back and turned to address the wookie.

“You have to take care of her,” he entreated. “Do you hear me?” Rey’s lips curled up in exasperation but she accepted Chewie’s answering hug. Ben’s eyes moved to meet hers. “And she’ll take care of you.”

She nodded, soft eyes making a wordless promise to protect the only family he had left. Chewbacca extended his embrace to cover them both, the surprise inclusion nearly knocking the young Solo off his feet. With a short bark and a final squeeze, Chewie let go and boarded the ship, granting them a moment alone. Rey reached for Ben’s hands.

“You’re not alone,” she vowed.

“Neither are you,” he answered in turn. 

The kiss was long and deep against the backdrop of the suns slipping below the horizon. Rey lowered her eyes as they pulled apart, swallowed her tears and ran up the ramp. When she reached the top she turned to find him still watching from below. The darkness of dusk crept across his face, but light flickered in his eyes and he smiled, his promise to her. She carried that look with her as she launched into the sky.

* * *

Recovering the homestead required long days of hard physical labor in the harsh light of two suns, but Ben welcomed it. They recreated a working schematic from images in Artoo’s databanks and meticulously removed the excess sand, uncovering the farm that was. The work was simple but steady, with small but meaningful victories: clearing a space large enough to retire the shelter. Repairing the pipes well enough to use the sink. Finding a toy starship Artoo recognized as Luke’s. Mending the graves of his ancestors. His clothes were dusty, his hands were calloused and his heart remained heavy, but the tasks kept him busy, at least in the day.

The loneliness was like a blanket clutched in childhood. Familiar. Juvenile. Poignant. In the daylight it helped him hide when curious neighbors asked his purpose. Sorrow is a clever shroud. But in the night shadows loomed. He expected the quiet, but not the cold. The temperature dipped twenty degrees at night, and the winds howled. It reminded him of space. It reminded him of Exogol. It reminded him of everything he couldn’t forget.

“You look tired.”

Her voice was a balm. Ben looked up past the fire to find Rey watching him with wide, compassionate eyes. She was leaning in, propped on something he couldn’t see, and her hair brushed her shoulders. His lips quirked up at the sight.

“It’s slow work. The sand gets in everything.” He frowned at Rey’s chuckles. “It’s true!”

“I know.” Her eyes twinkled. “That’s why they lived underground.”

Ben glanced around his surroundings. The rooms were clear but the farm felt empty, nothing like a home. 

Rey understood; she grew up in a desert. Life was there, but hidden. It was easy to be lonely. Not like here. The Lake Country in Naboo was not only beautiful, it felt alive. The gardens were more cultivated than she preferred, more tame, but her senses were fed by vibrant colors, delicate smells, the rush of water and twitter of birds. 

“Hello,” a voice interrupted her reverie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Rey shook her head not to worry and sent a nudge through the bond, confirmed it reached Ben before she closed the connection and turned to the woman. “I’m Pooja Naberrie.”

“Rey.”

Pooja smiled. “Let me pour you a cool drink.” She gestured and Rey settled on an intricately carved bench, sun and shade dancing on its marbled top.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The elder woman passed her a tall glass. “It’s been in my family for generations.” Rey glanced to the manor past the garden area and imagined growing up there, with a family history that went back longer than memory. “My son thinks it’s old fashioned. He’d rather live on your spaceship.” The Falcon was parked in the grass past the house, barely visible from the lakeside. Rey still thought of it as Han’s home, not hers.

Pooja took a long sip of her juice. “The palace told me to expect you but they didn’t say why.” Likely it had something to do with her aunt, but she preferred not to make assumptions.

Rey placed her glass down and straightened her shoulders. “You are the oldest living relative of Padmé Amidala.”

“I am.”

“I would like your permission to open her tomb.”

Pooja frowned. It was over 50 years past, but Padmé was popular in life and infamous in death and her demise remained a wound on Naboo. At least the girl asked, there had been numerous vandals over the years though no one successfully disturbed her grave. Rey waited quietly, her hands curled in her lap, her expression kind, but betraying nothing. Pooja narrowed her eyes to peer closer. Who was she?

“Why?”

Rey reached into the carrysack behind her and retrieved the lightsaber she’d found in Maz Kanata’s basement, that had claimed her and set her on this path. Pooja gasped as she placed it between them.

“Is that…?”

Rey nodded. “It belonged to Anakin Skywalker.”

Pooja brushed tentative fingers across the handle. It was cold, even in the bright sun.

“I met him once,” she murmured, “as a girl. I only remember—” She glanced up, a faraway expression across her face. “He was tall. And his eyes followed my aunt everywhere.”

Rey placed her hand over Pooja’s, the lightsaber beneath them. “I wish to bury this with her.”

Pooja peered at the girl again. “Who are you?”

“Their children were my teachers.”

* * *

Ben peered into the Tatooine night. Though he understood she was occupied, Rey’s abrupt goodbye spooked him and the sky full of stars made her feel closer. He wondered if these same stars helped Luke, if he’d felt his twin’s absence even when ignorant of her existence. Ben had many memories of his mother watching the stars, wherever they happened to be at the time, and enough of Luke to make the connection. He wished he’d asked them more questions, wished he’d listened harder when they answered. He wished he could speak to them now.

Something twitched in his periphery, a kind of light, low, vaguely blue. He turned to get a better look but the glow moved further away. He blinked and the blue light coalesced into the familiar shape of R2-D2 rolling across the dunes, nearly out of sight. Swearing, Ben jumped down into the smaller building, grabbed a handful of supplies and his blaster and ran after the droid. 

It wasn’t difficult to catch up with a vintage astromech plunging through sand, but Artoo didn’t stop or slow as Ben drew near. And no matter how many times he asked “Where are you going?” or “What are you doing?” the droid merely beeped and kept on. Frustrated, Ben was tempted to return to the homestead alone but he knew Rey would never forgive him for abandoning Artoo. He crossed his arms against the cold and dark and fell in step with the droid. Artoo beeped in approval.

“You’re lucky I don’t kick you,” Ben growled, but his chest felt lighter than it had in days.

The suns crept over the horizon long before they reached Artoo’s destination, a small house on a bluff. It was more isolated than the Lars farm and in better repair. Ben was happiest to find the ancient moisture vaporator functioning well enough to have a long drink. He dropped his supplies, and the sweater he’d stripped off at sunrise, and glared at the droid working to open the outer door. “ _He_ lived here, right?” The only response was a gentle whirr. Ben sighed and drained another glass.

The simple dwelling was well hidden, without Artoo he would never have found it. Not that he’d wanted to. Ben Kenobi. General, teacher, guardian, one of the last Jedi and hero of at least two wars. Far too much to live up to, like everything else in Ben’s life. Artoo beeped excitedly as the door slid open and he trundled inside. Ben gathered his things and followed, eager to be done here.

The interior of Kenobi’s hut was tidy, though covered in a fine film of dusty sand. The furnishings were simple and aesthetically bland. Unlike Luke’s home it was intact, saved from scavengers by its obscurity, but still revealed no secrets. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Artoo didn’t answer. Ben huffed and paced around the room, his eyes flickering wildly. He didn’t recognize anything, from memory or through the Force, but it felt…. It felt haunted, like he’d felt haunted his whole life. Like a presence he couldn’t see was sitting on his chest. His heart pounded so rapidly it hurt and his vision blurred. The room spun, as far as he knew no one had stepped inside it since Kenobi and Luke left over thirty-five years before. Some part of him was desperate to explain, to apologize, but he couldn’t form the words and couldn’t tell if they would listen, or hear.

“What’s wrong?” Rey appeared before him, her eyes wild and her voice alarmed. Ben looked away. She’s someone else he let down. “Ben…” She stepped back into his sight. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you—” He couldn’t form the words.

Rey reached out. “Take my hand. _Ben_ , please take my hand.”

He stared at her open palm, curved toward him, reaching from across the stars. Offering everything. “My whole family died to save me. I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve you. I was never good enough and now—” His voice caught and tears fell freely.

“It’s not about that.”

Ben glanced up. “What?”

“Those are the wrong questions.” Rey stepped close and pressed their hands together. “People don’t deserve better, or worse. Love is given. Help is given.” Slowly, Ben curled his fingers around her hand in his, and felt the slightest weight, even from so far away. “What do you want to give?”

The question lingered for hours. Past dinner, past sunsset, it kept him awake in the night. He tried to meditate, tried to ask for guidance, but though he felt a presence in the Force, he received no answers. The quiet unnerved him and he gave into the impulse to pace. The room wasn’t big enough for his long gait and he briefly wondered how Master Kenobi survived the claustrophobia for nearly twenty years. But of course Master Kenobi wasn’t plagued by restlessness. Master Kenobi was a paragon of Jedi fortitude. Master Kenobi was— He paused midstep, his shoulders hunched and hands balled into fists, he could feel the raw power of anger and shame pulsing through his blood. He dropped his hands, distraught. Ben Kenobi was everything Ben Solo was not.

His eyes fell on R2-D2, off to the side, quiet, blinking in a familiar holding pattern, but present in its own droid way. Sometimes, when he was little, Ben wanted to be a droid. They didn’t have feelings or choices, just purpose, a job to do. It seemed simpler, no one expected a droid to be anything more than what it was.

“Artoo.” 

The droid whirred, questioning. 

Ben took a breath, and a leap of faith. “I want to see more. Can you show me…” He stumbled over the name, he’d thought of his grandfather as Vader for so long. 

Artoo beeped, an inquiry. 

“Yes,” Ben agreed, pleased the droid understood anyway. “Thank you.” 

Artoo made another noise, a kind of coo, quiet and curious but not a question. Ben realized he’d never thanked a droid before, this one or another. 

“I guess she’s rubbing off on me,” he suggested with a rueful smile that grew with the droid’s answering whir of delight. “We’ll go at first light. You can power down.” Ben crawled into Kenobi’s bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Artoo took up a position at the foot of the bed and activated his alarm protocols. He would guard this Skywalker as he had done all the rest.

* * *

Padmé Naberrie Amidala, queen and senator of Naboo, was buried in a mausoleum in the capital city of Theed. It was ostentatious and didn’t remind Rey of Leia or Luke or Ben or Pooja. If anything, it reminded her of Palpatine. She’d learned at the library Queen Amidala had inadvertently put Palpatine in power. Well, inadvertently on her part. He was her mentor, had groomed Padmé and Anakin both. They were manipulated their whole lives. As she would have been, in another life where she grew up here, or in Coruscant, with her parents and the Emperor. Rey shuddered at the thought.

She gently lifted the carved stone cover off Amidala’s coffin with the Force, revealing her remains, mainly bones, but well preserved. Blue silk covered her body and dried flowers were strewn around, mingled with dust.

“I hope you can rest now,” Rey whispered. As she lifted the skeletal hands to place Anakin’s lightsaber between them a small carving on a leather cord slipped into the coffin. Rey reached down and retrieved the pendant. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. It wasn’t described in any of the books she’d read and Pooja Naberrie hadn’t mentioned it either.

“Just a token,” a voice explained. Her head shot up to find a young man made out of blue light. She didn’t know him, but she’d heard his voice, and only one person made sense in this place.

“I loved her from the moment I saw her,” Anakin continued, “she was brighter than all the stars in the galaxy.” He gestured to the carving in her hands. “I made that for her.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He smiled. “You should take it. To remind you who you are and where you come from.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed on the necklace. What was the ghost referring to? Naboo? The Jedi? The Skywalkers? But she was a Palpatine. What did Anakin’s token for Padmé have to do with her?

“Love,” he answered her unspoken questions, “you come from love.”

Rey gasped, and felt tears at the back of her eyes. Her whole life she’d wanted confirmation she was loved. Han offered her a home. Finn came back for her. Ben chose her. But still she’d felt scared and empty, worried if they knew the truth, the horrible truth that caused her parents to leave, they would abandon her, too. She’d defended her parents to the Sith Lord, but it was bravado, and somehow this ghost Anakin knew that, and understood, and validated both her fear and her truth. She came from love. 

“Thank you,” she told him, her voice heavy with emotion, and slipped the cord over her head.

Anakin smiled and climbed into the coffin beside his wife. Rey raised a hand to shield her eyes as a bright blue light filled the room. She thought she saw Padmé appear and embrace Anakin but when she blinked the room was dark and she was alone.

* * *

“Looking for family?”

Ben turned toward the voice. A middle-aged woman with a familiar air of authority raised an eyebrow. ‘A. DEAVER’ was stitched on the pocket flap of the vintage racing jacket she wore. “What?”

“You’re looking for something. Most people it’s family. And most of ‘em disappointed.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because people looking for family are people looking for answers.” Ben’s eyes went wide and the woman smiled, knowingly. “A lot of ‘em find out they were swindled. Easy to say someone’s descended from a family of slaves on a dustball planet in the outer rim— we ent got the records to check, now, do we?” He shook his head. “And thems lucky enough to find who they’re looking for— there’s only sadness to be found.”

A quiet moment passed as Ben weighed what to say. 

“I’m looking for Anakin Skywalker. Can you show me where he lived?”

“Huh.” Deaver looked him up and down with renewed curiosity. “You don’t seem the type.” She chuckled at his confusion. “People looking for Skywalker want to study him for their academics,” she leaned in to explain, “or he’s a big figur in their cult.”

“The Jedi?”

“Jedi, Sith, we get ‘em all.” She turned, gesturing at him to follow. “Come on then.” 

Deaver lead him to a sand hut in the middle of town. It was anonymous amongst a long line of sand huts, but she claimed to know and though Ben had no reason to trust her, he sensed he could. It was a tenth the size of the Lars home, if that, and had even fewer rooms than Kenobi’s. A kitchen, a common area, and two spaces he’d think were closets except for the beds.

“Been empty 'bout ten years now.” Ben frowned. Deaver laughed. “Did you expect a shrine? Slaves leave, slavers replace them. Just business.”

“Business that’s been outlawed for…” He shrugged. “Well, longer than ten years.” Even the First Order pretended to be against slavery though he knew it was a lie in practice.

“It’s harder to be a slaver under the republics,” she acquiesced, “but only just. No matter who is in power the people out here lose.”

Ben looked away, ashamed. He had taken power in an effort to heal the past without ever understanding why it was hurt. And he’d helped no one, saved no one, just extended the damage. “I don’t know what I expected,” he murmured, answering her earlier question. She was right, he’d come looking for answers, but there was nothing of Anakin here. He placed a hand on the kitchen table and reached out with the Force, asking for guidance, a sign, anything.

The woman cocked her head and her eyes swept over him again. “Maybe you are a Jedi,” she mused. 

* * *

The library in Theed was expansive but biased. The Empire was unpopular on Naboo and the Emperor moreso. History texts were written and rewritten quickly and often— but bureaucracy was slow. She didn’t find a family record, but her efforts were not in vain.

“All of this…”

“Belonged to Palpatine, yes.” Rey stared at the vista before her. The Falcon was a toy against the backdrop of the late emperor’s valley, far enough from the capital to hide all the darkness he invited into their lives. “And still does,” the property manager continued. “Had an heir clause written up first year in public office. At the time he was celebrated for putting Naboo before personal gain.” He snorted. “After everything, clear it was just another contingency plan.”

Rey shook her head. “What does it mean?”

“Have to wait a hundred years after the death of his last heir before the property can be released. The state has a proposal to dissolve the agreement on the basis of,” he shrugged, “everything, but it’s still in committee. And now they’re arguing about if the death date has to be adjusted…” Palpatine’s demise happened so soon after his resurgence much of the galaxy thought, hoped, it was a hoax. But Rey’s attention wandered from the bureaucrat. The Force rumbled beneath them. The valley was steeped in energy, similar to the island. She shivered.

“What will they do with this land?” It laid dormant now but in her mind’s eye she saw a darkness reaching.

The official shrugged again, unaware of any danger. “Already have offers to buy. More money than I’ll ever see.”

* * *

The racetrack was as dusty and aged as the rest of Tatooine. It was the off-season and the races were all but discontinued years ago anyway, but street racers still used it. Three of them were out today, Ben’s hand twitched with excitement at the sight.

“Are you a pilot?” 

He glanced down. A small Twi’lek girl smiled up at him. Her brother was on the track, running through race prep. Ben remembered watching his father when he was her age. “I wanted to be.”

“Me, too,” she giggled and launched into a lecture on the ins and out of racing pods, her team, and this particular track. Ben grinned; her excitement was infectious. 

“When you’re older,” her brother admonished with a rub to her head. “Grab us some melon, eh?” He passed her coins and she scampered off. The racer smiled after. “You a friend of Andromeda’s?” He’d seen the stranger arrive with Deaver.

“She’s showing me around.”

The Twi’lek nodded. “That’s what she does. We owe her.” Ben’s glance was a question. “This place was a ghost town. Whole planet really, been crumbling for generations. Most just saw damage when they looked.” Ben understood he meant more than sunken buildings and broken machinery. “Andromeda saw people. Now we’re a community.” 

Ben followed his gaze across the track and the surrounding town. It wasn’t only his questions that were wrong. It was where he was looking for the answers. Luke’s homestead, Kenobi’s hut, Shmi’s hovel and Anakin’s racetrack were only just sand, like Vader’s helmet had only ever been ash. 

“So, you wanted to be a pilot?” Ben blinked, and shrugged. He’d wanted to be many things. The racer tossed him a helmet. “Let’s see what you got.”

The pod was a jumble of parts, most of them ancient and if he hadn’t seen them driving it he wouldn’t believe it worked. But once he hit full throttle the real world fell away. He was transported to the height of Tatooine’s racing circuit, to the time a slave won his freedom and changed the course of the galaxy. To the first time he made the jump to hyperspace on his own. To when he was six years old and flying from his father’s lap. He felt the wind in his hair and the energy of the pod pulsing around him. He was connected through the Force to the engine and to the racer who built it and his little sister and even the melon they ate. He accepted their praise with a wide grin when he returned the helmet and clapped the Twi’lek racer on the shoulder in thanks. The little girl offered to help him build his own pod.

“You don’t know who I am,” he told her, haunted.

The girl screwed up her face and thrust out a hand. “I’m Marta.”

Her pale green hand was covered in sand that sparkled in the sunslight. He shook it gently and with all the gravity his mother taught him when he was Marta’s age and expected to be well mannered in front of her colleagues. “I’m Ben.”

“Now we’re friends.” 

After they made plans to meet the next day, her brother hoisted her onto his shoulders and they walked off to find dinner.

“You’re smiling.”

“It was a good day.” Ben turned, excited to share it with her but his smile fell when he caught the look in Rey’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” She hesitated, worried about ruining his mood. He stepped closer. “You can tell me anything.”

She met his eyes. “He had a home here. It’s huge and—” Her voice caught and he stepped closer still. “—cold. I don’t like it.” She shivered. He wanted to gather her in his arms, felt her fear and anger and shame pulsing. “I want to destroy it.”

Ben knew that feeling well. He wished he could take it from her, spare her suffering. “It would destroy you instead.”

“I know. I feel it.” Rey gasped in anguish. “He’s still here, he’s still winning.”

Ben shook his head. “You defeated him.”

She started pacing in nervous energy. “They want to sell it. They don’t know any better. Someone with too much money and too much ambition will move in and…” She gestured wildly. “Or another darksider will be drawn to it. Who else would want to live on the bones of the Empire?”

Ben grabbed her wrist. It only worked a moment, the pressure of his fingers faded almost instantly, but long enough to still her.

“What would you do with it?”

Rey blinked. “What?”

“It’s yours. It can be.”

She blinked again, flashed to her vision of them on the Sith throne. Panic rose in her chest and she recoiled. The japor necklace jerked as she jolted, hit against her skin. Rey brushed her fingers over the delicate carvings and her breath relaxed. Calmed, her mind filled with images of the Jedi texts, words on vergencies in the Force. Balance required shadow. She looked up to find Ben watching her with worried eyes. “I would make it a school,” she murmured and her face lit up, eyes shining with promise.

It took months to push her claim through the government of Naboo and even longer to persuade the burgeoning republic. But Rey was tenacious and she had enough friends in high places to make it work. Palpatine’s granddaughter gifting her entire estate to the new Jedi Order made a strong statement, as did installing General Finn as Jedi Master.

“We need you here, Rey.”

“No. You have all the help you need.”

Though construction of the Academy was in the earlier stages, the valley was already transformed. Temporary shelters surrounded the exposed foundation, scholars and builders mingled, all working toward a common goal. And there were ghosts everywhere, cataloging artifacts found in the expansive estate, many Sith but not all. Others helped direct the construction, detailed how to take advantage of the ley lines. One Force ghost of an older woman had taken over the design of the library entirely.

“I need you,” Finn tried again with pleading eyes.

“Your training is complete.” He was as good a Jedi as she was, or better. The ghosts helped with that, too. The valley’s Force energy made them strong. It wouldn’t last forever, but long enough. Ironic that the Sith lord who dedicated his life to defeating the Jedi contributed to their revival in his death.

“I still need you.”

Rey smiled and pulled him into a tight hug. Finn wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her hair.

“Just don’t be a stranger, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

* * *

Deaver crossed her arms at Ben’s approach. “Thought you’d gone back to wherever you came from.” The Falcon loomed behind him, adding to the dramatics of his return.

“I was working on something important,” he explained, holding up a datapad.

“What’s this?”

“It says Tatooine has a seat in the new republic senate.” Her eyes went wide. “A voice. A voice for change.”

“What—?” She stared from the pad to the man. “How did you do this? Who are you?” She’d guessed he wasn’t as anonymous as he pretended to be but thought he was a spoiled rich boy seeking to atone for his family’s hand in the slave trade, not someone with connections to the galactic government.

Ben shook his head. None of that was important. “Tatooine has been ignored and abandoned for generations. You deserve better.”

“So you’re gonna represent us?” He’d lived here at least three harvests, was popular with the racing crowd and was probably related to someone in the planet’s past. He wasn’t precisely one of them but he seemed to have the right priorities. He was someone she could work with.

But Ben shook his head. “Not me. You.” He swiped the pad and pointed to the name under the title ‘Senator’. Andromeda Deaver. She didn’t realize he even knew it.

“I can’t—I’m not a politician!” she sputtered. Senators were rich and fancy and from important families. She didn’t know the first thing about any of it.

“Look at the community you built here.” Ben gestured behind her, to a crowd of people starting to gather around them. The news was spreading, thanks to his friends. He spied Chewie in the crowd and Marta waved from her brother’s shoulders. Mos Espa filled with the people Senator Deaver would represent. “The republic needs people like you.”

“But I don’t…”

“I have a droid who can help you with protocol,” he told her. “And you won’t be the only one learning.” He took her hand and pitched his voice to carry into the crowd. “Senator Deaver of Tatooine, the newly appointed senate is convening on Illis and we would like the privilege of escorting you there.”

She peered into his eyes, then over the crowd of hopeful faces. Tears sprung up at the sight and she broke into a smile. “Let me collect my things.” 

Ben nodded and dropped her hand with a squeeze of encouragement. She turned to walk away, the datapad still clutched in her hand. She tapped her name under the new republic seal and looked back. “Who are you?,” she asked again. 

“I’m Ben,” he answered with a smile. His fingers brushed the rose gold lightsaber on his belt, the legacy he finally understood. “Ben Organa.”

Rey watched the crowd disband from her perch in the cockpit of the Falcon. Her knees tucked into the seat, she traced the lines of the japor pendant with an idle finger. Its shape was like an X-Wing or the two Skywalker lightsabers crossed in power against the Sith, and it was decorated with delicate carvings of stars and moons.

“You are so beautiful.”

His voice was low, quiet, but it filled the space and her eyes were drawn to his like gravity. He looked at her with all the love she craved, all the love she feared she’d never find, all the love in the galaxy. She reached her hand toward him and he caught it in his own.

The answer was never out there, in the sand or the stars, but here, with her. Home was not Tatooine or Naboo, Jakku or Alderaan, Coruscant or Corellia, Illis or Exogol. Home was sitting side by side in the Falcon. Home was their hands entwined, his lips on her forehead, his body pressed against hers. He was her home and she was his answer and they had everything they needed. 


End file.
